


The Real Thing

by angeleledhwen (kallistei), eledhwen (kallistei)



Category: Actor RPF, Harry Potter RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-03
Updated: 2003-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistei/pseuds/angeleledhwen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistei/pseuds/eledhwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who needs a picture when you have the original?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Thing

Daniel is a terrible artist. He had to do art at school until he was fourteen, and the best his report ever had to say about his best attempts was 'tries hard'. 'Lacks talent' was always carefully hidden between the lines for anyone to read. He'd always thought it would be really cool to be able to draw well, like John, who used to sit opposite him in class, and whose bowls of fruit always looked like bowls of fruit, rather than demented UFOs.

After he finished Year Nine, he didn't draw again, apart from the odd doodle when he was trying to waste time instead of studying. Drawing was something he would have liked to be able to do, but it wasn't all that important. He did his GCSEs, and even his A levels, in between movies, but he didn't do art. He wasn't good enough to make the effort worthwhile. And then he began to really work, to make big movies. His name began to be their selling point, rather than the movie's name. 'Harry Potter' became, in time, just another part he'd played, rather than his whole career.

Watching Elijah makes that childhood urge to draw leap up in him all over again. Life with him is a long chain of moments of heartbreaking beauty, and every so often he looks up and catches sight of yet another that makes him long to capture it on paper so he can see it over and over again. Only it's completely beyond his ability - so much so that he doesn't even bother to try, and a moment is far too short to run for the camera. They have lots of photos, professional as well as personal, but none of them quite seems to capture things the way he thinks he could, if he could draw.

One afternoon he is sitting at a table in the living room, reading over the script for his next project. It's become a part of his routine for every movie. He makes notes on his impressions of his character, and their relationships with the other characters, and anything else that seems like it might be important. Someone - he forgets exactly who, but it had been some old and famous actor he'd worked with - had advised him to try it and he's found it really useful.

Halfway through the script, he puts down the pencil he's been making notes with and looks up, stretches absently, rolls his neck. Directly in his line of sight, Elijah is sprawled on the floor, eyes closed, one hand on the book open on his stomach, the other arm flung out to the side. Five o'clock sunlight, thick and golden as honey, spills through the French windows onto him, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep. His t-shirt clings to every muscle, and his jeans are almost as tight. Daniel's breath catches again.

Almost despite himself, he picks up the pencil again and turns to a fresh page in his notebook. He begins to draw, trying to use the methods he vaguely remembers being taught at school. He's not more than half-done with his attempt at the simple sketch when Elijah stirs, murmurs, and blinks his eyes open. Hurriedly Daniel turns back a page, tries to look as if he's only been making notes the whole time. He doesn't really like the idea of being caught trying to draw Elijah, of all the stupid things he could be doing.

Elijah pries himself off the floor and walks over, clearly wondering what Daniel's trying to hide. "What're you doing?" he asks, walking around the table and putting his hand on Daniel's shoulder as he stands next to him. "I thought you were working."

"Oh, I am. Making notes and stuff." Daniel indicates the scattered pages covered with his scrawled shorthand, and the script he suddenly realises he's forgotten all about. His hand twitches, as he almost picks it up before realising that would make him look even more suspicious. He puts his pencil down again, smiles up at Elijah as innocently as he can manage.

"Hmm," Elijah says, before snatching up the notebook. Daniel makes a grab for it, but it's too late. Elijah turns to the page he'd been drawing on, and smirks. "Doodling again, Dan?" Daniel blushes, but before he can begin to explain, he realises that Elijah looks completely bemused. He turns the notebook around to look at the picture from the side, cocks his head to the right.

"What _is_ it?" he asks, brow creased in puzzlement. He speaks again while Daniel is still trying to think of something to say. "Oh wait, I know!" he exclaims triumphantly. "It's a fish! Two, even."

"Um," says Daniel, completely at a loss for words, and then, "I was just doodling."

Elijah nods at him, grins, flashing white teeth and amused blue eyes so Daniel's breath catches and his heart - and other parts - seize all over again. "Stick to acting, Dan."

Daniel grins back. "I think I will," he says, twisting around in his chair and pulling Elijah down for a kiss.

He doesn't really need to draw it, he thinks, as Elijah kisses him back willingly. There'll be lots more of those moments, more than he could capture even if he had the talent required. After all, as long as he has Elijah, he has the real thing.


End file.
